Some Hurts go to Deep
by GodsLittleGeek
Summary: What if he didn't make it. What will happen when a solid door separates the Gladers and a gun is at Thomas's head. Will they find a way? Angst because it is life. Newtmas. Enjoy! * *


***A/N: Hey this is just an angsty (because it's my favourite) Scorch Trials book/movie One-shot could be seen as Newtmas since I do ship them, anyways you read the summary. Just quickly for those who are reading my other Merlin fic, sorry for the lack of updates chapter 8 is getting along… slowly I just haven't had time or motivation to write it, so hopefully with this off of my mind I can get back to it. Right, on with fiction.***

The fear and adrenaline kept them going down those pale corridors of flickering emergency lights. They were almost there, so close to being free from WICKED's clutches that had been wrapped around them tightly from the very beginning before they were thrust into that maze of nightmares. He would get them out for good Thomas would get them all out.

Their freedom was just at the end of the corridor, one swipe of the key card in his hand and they would be free. The security panel read denied, _Shit. Come on_ Thomas thought, in his mind. _No, no, NO!_ His frustration left his lips and he looked to his friends faces around him. Minho, Teresa, Frypan… Newt, he'd failed them all.

"Thomas." Called Janson, Thomas turned to see him and his guards striding towards them grenade guns primed and aimed at his friends.

He threw the useless key card to the ground and cocked his gun, "Open this door, Jansen!" He walked forward and aimed the gun at the man who raised his hands.

"You really don't want me to." He retorted in that way that made him seem like he knew all.

"Open the damn door!" Thomas shouted, while Minho kept trying the key card. Newt was watching Thomas' advance on their captors terrified of going back to whatever had driven his friend to this frantic escape, but more than ever worried for his stupid shank of a friend who was going to get himself killed.

"Listen to me!" Janson continued, frustrated with these kids who knew nothing of the state the world was in, these bags of flesh and bones that held that vital gift of biology. "I'm trying to save your life. The maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn't last one day out in the Scorch." He and his team continued to advance on them, holding bullet proof shields, veteran hardness painted on their faces. He was so sick of being doubted by these people who had killed his friends one by one believing they were righteous, he was done with WICKED and their 'greater good'.

"If the elements don't kill you, the cranks will." Janson warned. _Crank? What's a Crank?_ Thomas shook himself he had other things to worry about, anyway it was probably just some lie to frighten them into staying. Nothing beyond this compound would scare him enough to let himself and they ones he loved be strung up and harvested. Nothing. Not even these mysterious Cranks. "Thomas, you have to believe me. I only want what's best for you." _Yeah right._

Thomas felt the rage boil inside of him and his grip tightened on the gun, "Yeah, let me guess. WICKED is good?"

The guise slipped from Janson's rat like face a taunting grin adorning his lips. "You're not getting through that door, Thomas." As the words left him a beeping sound erupted from the end of the corridor along with the sound of a releasing pressure seal. The door rose revealing a grinning Aris and a breathless Winston. "Hey, guys."

"Well come on!" Urged Frypan, getting to the other side of the door as quickly as possible.

"Tommy!" shouted Newt at his friend who was way too far up the corridor when the door was already open. "Come on! Let's go! It's closing."

Thomas looked at his gun and began firing the charged grenades at Janson who hurried behind the shields yelling into his communicator, "shut the main vault door", soon the ammo was spent and throwing the gun at them in one final effort Thomas ran towards his friends, who were shouting fear ridden encouragements as the offending door was sealing his only escape. His heart thumped with the rhythm of his pounding feet, he was too far away. the door was closing too fast.

He wasn't going to make it.

Newt was screaming watching helplessly as the door closed on his friend, one of his best friends. The brunette slammed into the door and looked through the strip of glass criss-crossed with wire his doe brown eyes locked with Newt's own.

"No," The blond muttered refusing to believe it, looking to his friends for help only to see the same lost and broken expression that resided on his own face. "No, no, no."

Newts turned back to him and placed his hand on the glass over Thomas's, as hot, stinging tears found their way down his face. "Tommy…" He saw in his friend's eyes the broken fear and sadness as he backed away tears rimming his pleading eyes. Newt pressed his forehead into the glass defiantly trying to get closer. He wanted them to leave without him, Newt was having none of it. When he saw Thomas's lips move he swore he could hear his voice.

"I'm sorry Newt." Suddenly one of the grenades hit him square in the back. Newt watched as the dancing streams of electricity reddened his Tommy's flesh as he fell to the ground his teeth clenched in pain, contorting his beautiful face.

Newt banged his fists against the glass, his screams of protest mixed with sobs that tore his throat. "Tommy! No! Please!" Then Janson stepped beside Thomas' seizing body, the man gave Newt's state of distress a sickly grin. Seeing the opportunity he pulled out some sort of device and aimed it at Thomas, Newt felt as if his organs were folding in on themselves. To his relief with a few pressed buttons the bolts of electricity stopped. His friends were pressing close to the glass at the chance they could save Thomas the escape was forgotten for the moment.

Janson hauled Thomas to his feet and kept him standing with an arm wrapped around his already injured neck. Thomas' vision was blurred but soon he was able to see the desperate faces of his friends, who were still here for some god forsaken reason. _Me_ thought Thomas through his sluggish molasses like mind, _can't they see I'm a lost cause._ Then there was the cool feeling of metal against his temple.

Newt clenched his teeth anger flaring through his being like wildfire, the sickening fear draining for a second.

"Now," declared Janson, "You kids stay there and we'll open the door and you'll all come back inside none of you will be hurt, or I'll blow Tommy's pretty little head open."

"No he's lying. Leave…please get out, just go!" Thomas felt drained barely able to force out that sentence, he just hoped it would be enough.

"Now, now Thomas," Janson cocked the gun menacingly, "let them decide."

Newt growled there were only two choices. They leave and Thomas dies, or they stay and they all live. If he had a chance he had to save Tommy he knew his answer. If Janson went through with his warning Newt was sure more than one person would die.

"Let me speed up this decision," Janson said lightly as if holding someone at gun point was a daily occurrence, "besides we don't need… let's say the use of a leg to harvest the body." He set the gun at Thomas's knee, Newts insides went cold as the gun went off and Thomas let out a strangled cry of pain. "Fine!" shouted Newt in unison with Minho's "Son of a bitch!" pounding his fist a fist against the glass.

Janson clamped a hand over Thomas's mouth to quieten his yells, "Sorry what was that?" Janson asked.

"I said fine you bastard!" Newt screamed, "Whatever you want." He added hoarsely.

Janson grinned at his success, before it contorted into a grimace as Thomas bit hard into the hand over his mouth.

"Minho! Get them out! Drag Newt if you have too! Just get away and find the Right Arm!" Thomas cried the pain giving him a burst of strength, He grabbed Janson's gun and pointed it at his chest. _If he was going to die he would take this bastard with him._ Thomas looked up at Newts broken eyes hoping his friend understood what he felt. He saw it replicated in those eyes he loved so much and with that he went willingly into deaths embrace.

Thomas pulled the trigger.

Blood sprayed the glass as Thomas fell along with Janson. Newt felt as if he'd been thrust under water all he heard was a broken heart beat impossibly. Then it erupted like a geyser and he screamed. He screamed and sobbed and screamed again, because the last thing he had, they only one thing he wanted had been ripped from him.

Minho grabbed a shattered Newt around the waist and dragged him away tears burning his own eyes. Newt never once stopped his pleadings and protests until Minho pulled him away from the door and Newt fought him, fought harder than he ever had if it meant he could glimpse Thomas one more time. "I won't leave him!"

"Newt!" Minho shouted, Turning the struggling blond around and grabbed his face. "Newt," he said softer, "We have to go."

Never had Minho seen his friend more broken, not even when ably had dragged him out of the maze after he had jumped. "He's gone, Min." He said hoarsely.

Minho let the tears fall then, "I know, but we need to go." He began dragging Newt out through the huge metal doors and into the sting of the sandstorm.

Newt was so lost, he felt…. He didn't feel. There was no longer a heart in his chest just a gaping black abyss. The sting of the sand clinging to his wet face as he limped behind Minho was nothing compared to this hollow nothing. It was worse than that tearing grief and fear, a constricting numb emptiness.

No amount of glue could fix this. Nothing could ever fix this.

As the gap between them got larger so did the gaping hole left by his Tommy.

 ***There. Please review! I crave them! Feel free to point out any mistakes. Who's pumped for The Death Cure? I know I am! I would've been out really soon if Dylan hadn't broken his face. Thanks for the read, I hope dearly I did it justice.***


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